Second Skin
by firejiya
Summary: The towering blond man has the nerve, the audacity to order Levi's face to be shoved into filth, and Levi wants to scream but then, the man kneels in the same filth Levi was pushed into, and offers him a deal. (A Choice with No Regrets, Eruri)


The thing about the Underground is, no matter how much you

wash your clothes,

dust your meager belongings,

scrub your hands until they are vibrant red,

the filth never leaves. Oppressive, heavy like humid air, so thick it's palpable. Levi constantly shears himself of all filth but the grime is always back within minutes.

Eventually, he learns to just live with it, live with the invisible layer of second skin nobody else but him seems to care about. Keeps himself clean, keeps the dirt at a measured level, keeps in control of what he touches.

But now there's this towering blond man,

oppressive,

imposing,

like the filth down here, but fucking clean because he's a soldier. And this man is so tall, he could be one of those rumored titans. And he clearly thinks he hung the nonexistent moon in the dim Underground because he has the nerve, the audacity to order Levi's face to be shoved into filth.

Levi wants to scream. He wants to rip his own face off,

break these hands holding his head down,

because who the fuck does this man think he is, coming into a world he is no part of, and assuming Levi is one with the filth- that having a mouth full of sewage is everyday for him. Because fuck Levi for trying to rise even a bit, for trying to make a life for himself and his friends instead of sitting, starving, taking whatever comes to them. Fuck Levi for trying to be clean.

Levi will kill this man, he decides with more vehemence than ever before but then,

the man kneels in the same filth Levi was pushed into and Levi watches with fascination as the brown muck,

percolates through the pristine white fabric of his pants,

splotching over the kneecap,

crawling up in dredges,

and finally settling in like a piece of shit in a clean toilet bowl.

Levi hears himself saying, "Fine, I'll join your Survey Corps." And he's still going to kill this man, but maybe his looming presence no longer seems as vile.

Until it's vile again, more vile and this man is the most cruel, disengaged man Levi has ever known, and he knows himself. Sitting atop his horse and gazing apathetically at the severed bodies of Isabel and Farlan, knowing all along about Levi's mission, stringing them along anyway to their inevitable deaths. Tossing them aside like mere pawns under his fingers.

Levi has never felt so filthy before, covered in

rain, and mud, and tears, and

the blood of two pieces of his heart that are no more.

Levi knocks the blond bastard off his horse and onto his knees. This man killed Isabel and Farlan, he killed Levi's spirit, and now Levi has to kill him. At this point, it's his duty. But,

a hand stops his sword,

and a calm voice begins to speak.

Words, not actions. But words begetting action, imploring Levi to see,

see what this man sees with his eyes that are not cold, icy blue, and calculating like Levi had expected but rather swimming with inspiration, with a vision for humanity so large it

takes Levi's breath away.

This man believes in the limitless, in an equity for all of humanity, the likes of which Levi never had the luxury to even consider in his cage, without even a sky to gaze upon.

With his power… Levi is not a pawn. He is an investment for the future, a game-changer.

So when Erwin offers him his hope, Levi grabs onto it,

feverishly,

molds himself into a warrior,

feels, everytime he goes outside the walls, that he is experiencing something greater.

And gives Erwin hope in return, for Levi carries the strength of a thousand men in ways nobody has ever before seen, in ways that could change the course of history.

They see countless deaths, deaths Levi can't escape even above ground, comrades,

mangled,

torn,

crushed,

screaming for him as if he is a last-minute savior. But he cannot save everyone, he is only one man. And it makes Levi feel fucking filthy again, to constantly have blood on his hands no matter how much soap he has access to now. How many lives have been lost for his failure to act? He feels tired, worn out. He may be made of steel, but even steel needs a support beam.

So when Erwin offers him his shoulders, Levi leans on them, allows that sturdy frame to share some of his burden,

his weariness,

the entire fucking weight of humanity.

And he offers up his shoulders in return, as stupid as it might be for Erwin to try to lean on them when Levi is so short. Because Levi knows, behind his commander's emotionless mask, every single life lost on his orders stabs him in the heart, makes him question his quest for the truth, makes him wonder if it's even worth it, when the mystery of the titans is just one big clusterfuck. But he leans on Levi and keeps his resolve, in too deep now to back out.

Levi finds himself in Erwin's office more often than not, watching his mouth's movements as they read over plans together, map out expeditions,

sip tea in silence.

Levi considers himself a lone soul, since he watched his mother decompose before his own eyes, since Kenny abandoned him at twelve-years old, since his only other family died on their first time outside the walls.

He will always be alone, but he feels comfortable being alone in the presence of Erwin.

So when Erwin offers him his lips, Levi kisses them, threads his fingers through blonde hair, lets himself be lifted up into thick arms and it's,

disgusting,

the swapping of spit,

the mixing of fluids,

for as long as he's done it, Levi has found it foul, almost overwhelming the pleasure. But he does it anyway and this time he thinks,

it really isn't that disgusting after all, not when

like a second skin,

They are made of the same filth.


End file.
